


Hooked

by trash_hunny



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Drugs, Eventual Romance, F/M, References to Drugs, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-07 04:38:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17359106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trash_hunny/pseuds/trash_hunny
Summary: Please forgive me, as I'm bad at summaries.Moving to San Andreas wasn't such a bad idea after all. Living in perhaps the most redneck area of the state has certain qualities about it. Trevor Philips turned out to be one of the good ones.I swear, the story is more exciting than the description.





	1. Mr. Philips

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm very proud to say that this is my first work on the Archives! Please enjoy this story, and I promise I will have chapter 2 up soon.

    I honestly don't know why the hell I moved all the way out to Sandy Shores. I was only 23, but I had already gotten so tired of the same old way of life. I never really cared much for the idea of college so I never went. I had been working mostly at bars and restaurants, and I liked to draw, but I never thought I'd become a good artist. I eventually got sick of waiting for something exciting to show up into my life, so I left. 

    I grew up with my abusive, alcoholic mother mostly gone and my father has been dead for about a year now. I never really had many friends. I guess I thought that by leaving, I could forget all the painful memories, so I packed my bags and hopped on my motorcycle and started driving West, leaving Missouri behind without turning back. 

I drove for a long time. With the $400 I saved up from waiting tables and bartending, and about $300 that I inherited from my father, I made my way West, and I ended up in San Andreas, in a town by Los Santos called Sandy Shores.

It was a beat up looking town with a bunch of meth addicted rednecks. At the time, there was a trailer available for rent, right by the Alamo Sea. I figured it was as good a place as any. I got a job at the Yellow Jack Inn down the road. I got to know my way around pretty quick. 

Sandy Shores was growing on me. It was a kind of place that most people would stay away from. Financially stable, sane people, that is. In my case, I couldn't exactly afford to live in Los Santos, but I liked Sandy Shores anyways. Plus, the city seemed so much more fake and plastic.

I was getting back from work one day, when a rusty red Bhodi pulled up into the neighboring yard across the road, and I pieced it together that it must have been the notorious man I was hearing about around the neighborhood. My boss at the bar, Janet, told me his name was Trevor Philips. She said he was bad news, and that I should stay away from him, if I knew what was good for me. He caused her trouble at the bar, dead bodies turning up and shit.

You could hear pretty much everything that went on in the neighborhood, so you kinda always knew what your neighbors were doing. One day it was drunk guys beating each other up, the other a couple arguing, and it all went on through most of the day, into the evening. 

Trevor's old, dilapidated trailer in particular always had something going on in or around it. He was loud, sometimes yelling curses and threats, or insulting someone, even an occasional bout of gunfire could be heard once in a while. The noise went on constantly, even at night. Blasting music hardly helped the noise, if at all.

When I first saw him, I knew he was someone you shouldnt fuck with. He was wearing a grey tank shirt and camoflauge cargo pants with boots. He had a garish dotted line tattooed on his neck that said 'CUT HERE', and various other tattoos littered his body. I could see that he had lots of scars, some of which appeared to be old bullet holes. His eyes were a deep caramel brown and he had dark, thinning hair. He was tall, and he was muscular. He always looked and behaved as if he was pissed off. I didn't blame him. I often had anger issues myself. I somehow found myself strangely and utterly attracted to him.

Some evenings, I'd be on my porch, and I'd watch him. He would pull up at random times in his old rusted truck and he'd get out. Sometimes he would be covered in blood, and he even had a few bullet wounds. He would often be carrying guns. One evening, I was having a meltdown from my bike breaking down I kicked the bike down and threw my helmet at the side of my trailer, all while yelling curses in a high pitched tone. He watched me in an amused way, as he walked out of his trailer with a beer in his hand.

"What do we have here?" He said, as he eyed me up and down hungrily, as if he were a predator eyeing his prey. "Ain't you a little ray of sunshine?"

I glared at him and I could tell my face was flushed. "What's it to you? Ain't you got anything better to do than to stand over there and watch people like a fucking idiot?" I knew I shouldn't get involved, but at the moment I was pissed, pissed for no particular reason, but still, when I was pissed, I got snappy. And kinda a little bit horny, too.

"Well you sure are a firecracker ain't you? Haven't seen you around here before, sweetheart." His hand kept twitching, and he was inching closer in my direction, though he was across the street. I took a deep breath and tried to cool myself off. 

"Well you're gonna be seeing alot more of me, 'cause I don't really wanna leave." I said, leaning against the fence, smirking. He smirked back. 

"You're quite a catch, sweetheart. What do you say to getting drinks sometime, eh?" He said huskily. I thought about it for a moment.

"Maybe. Might be fun." I said, feeling my cheeks heat up and my stomach twist with excitement.

"Alrighty then. See you soon, sweetheart." He said, going back into his trailer. I stood in my yard, thinking for a long time, before finally deciding to go back inside and sleep.

Some nights, he would be away. The nights would be quieter, and the air would be calm. However, the quiet somehow bothered me more than the constant noise and violence that constantly conflicted the neighborhood. 

Silence meant he was out doing whatever it was that he did. I was sure he must have been out doing violent, awful things, though, since the rumors and stories I heard about him were so far fetched, they seemed impossible. Somehow, I believed them though. Word gets around in this town, and I heard that he took out the whole chapter of the Lost MC of this area. Hell, he stomped their leader's brains into the dirt.

He was dangerous, nobody believed one man could singlehandedly take out whole chapters of the toughest biker gang around. I heard from Janet that he ran a ''business" that he called Trevor Philips Industries, and that his company ran drugs and guns.

The next evening, I was working the night shift at the bar. Dealing with drunk rednecks trying to flirt with you all night was a challenge, but I managed. I was pouring someone a drink when I saw Trevor come in and sit at the bar. I went to give them their drink and then walked over to him.

"Well, if it isn't little miss firecracker? So you're workin' in the bar now?" he said. I felt my face heat up. I was about to answer, but the boss came and interrupted us.

"Trevor, you're banned. I told you before." She said. I looked at him, he was obviously annoyed.

"I was just tryin' to get a drink, really." He said, sliding a 20 across the counter to her. She sighed and took the 20, walking to the storage room. I looked at him.

"So, gonna take me up on my offer on those drinks, darlin'?" He said.  
  "Well once my shift's over, I will." I said, going to get him a beer. I came back, sliding it across the bar counter. He took a drink and watched me as I went over to the other end to clean some glasses up. One of the drunk rednecks, someone who frequented the bar, waved me over to the table he was sitting at. I went around the bar and over to him.

"Yes?" I said. He was obviously drunk.

"Hey baby, I like you. You should come back to my car with me and we can have some fun." He said, standing up and getting in my space. 

"In your dreams, asshole. If you don't stop I'm gonna have you removed from the property so sit down and shut up." I said, turning to walk away, but he grabbed my wrist and tried to pull me to him.

"Let go of her!" I heard Trevor yell, as I was trying to pull away from the drunk. This was obviously making him mad, and he tried pulling me closer to him. I stomped on his foot, trying and failing to break free from his vice like grip. He became even more angered, and his grip on my wrist got tighter, hurting me. I kneed him in the stomach as hard as I could. He drew his arm back and was about to punch me, but someone grabbed his arm and yanked him back.

"What the hell?!" I heard him yell, looking up in time to see Trevor on him, punching him square in the jaw. He pushed him onto the table and pulled a pistol from his waistband. He pointed it directly between the man's eyes.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, you fuckin' cunt?! 'I ever see your face around here again I'll kill you!" He yelled while gritting his teeth, and he had his finger on the trigger, ready to pull it. The man looked scared out of his wits, he was silent. "Get the fuck out, don't let me catch you near her again or I'll put a bullet in your skull, you motherfucking fuck!"

Trevor dragged him to the door, throwing him out. He slammed it shut, coming back over to me and looking me over. 

"You all right?" He asked, putting his gun away. I shook my head, and I could see that he was livid.

"That motherfucker better hope I don't see him again." He said as I sat by him. "'Never got your actual name, sweetheart."

"It's Ellen Blackwood. And I already know your name, Trevor Philips." I said. Janet, having heard the commotion, came over to us quickly.

"What the hell happened?! Are you okay?!" She exclaimed. I nodded.

"I'm good. If it weren't for Trevor, things probably would have gone worse." I said. He shrugged. She looked at him, and then at me.

"I'm gonna have to ask you to leave, Trevor. I already told you, no more fighting in my bar." She said. Trevor scoffed, standing up from the stool he was seated on.

"See you around." He said, taking one last look at me before heading out the door. I gazed after him, staring at the door long after he was gone.

"Ellen, I better not see you messing around with that man. Trevor ain't no good for you. Hell, he ain't no good for anyone. You'd do best to remember that." Janet said, putting a hand on my shoulder and dismissing me for the night.

As I climbed into bed that Night, thoughts of Trevor Philips consumed my mind. For his reputation, he didn't seem so bad.


	2. Eyyy Author's Note

Sooooo I'm probably gonna change the Title by the way. Still trying to come up with a creative title but also one that fits with the actually story. My dumb ass can't think of shit to write. Chapter 2 should probably be up soon as well. Thanks for reading by the way. I love my readers.


	3. On My Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oohhh Ellen's getting into some kleptomaniacal trouble. 
> 
> Trevor and Ellen's relationship advances to a much more....heated situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy this! Please excuse the typos and shit. I'm typing this from a phone and I'm tired.

A week later, I was out walking by the Alamo Sea as I thought, for the millionth time, about Trevor. He was on my mind alot. I thought about his eyes, the way they seemed to look into my soul, his muscles, and the tattoos he had on his skin, Which, I thought, made him look quite attractive.

I walked back to my house and wondered, for a minute, about what Janet said about Trevor. I noticed he has quite the reputation in town, and I got to see it first-hand. He beat a man up, just for me. If he was really so bad, he wouldn't have protected me like that. He didn't even hardly know me.

I needed to hopefully clear my mind a bit, so I hopped on my motorcycle and started riding up to Grapeseed. I needed to do something fun, and maybe a little dangerous. Maybe I could even get into some trouble. So I swerved off the pavement and onto a dirt road, leading up the side of Mount Chiliad. I made the bike go as fast as possible at such an incline, and any wrong place in the road would have surely sent me falling to my death. 

Eventually, I got bored, so I turned back and started toward a small weed farm I saw on the way up. If I could sneak in, I could steal some of their weed. They'd probably have some money too. I parked my bike on the path just above, and walked down to the farm, where I hid behind a tree. They were keeping their weed in a small barn, and there were about 5 guys. 

I noticed a small opening in the back of the barn where the wood had rotted out. I quietly snuck to the back and looked into the opening. There was a container of weed and a suitcase just in reach, and if I was quiet enough, I could take it and they wouldn't notice.   
I reached my hand in and carefully picked up the weed, so as to not make any noise. I watched the men inside to see if they would turn around. After the weed was safely tucked under my arm, I grabbed the suitcase, and quickly pulled it out.

To my misfortune, the suitcase was heavy and I accidentally bumped it on the edge of the opening in the wall of the barn. My eyes widened as the men inside whipped around and started yelling, running around the side. I was already up the hill and quickly starting the bike, speeding down the road like a bat out of hell.

When I thought I was safe, bullets whizzed past me, grazing my arm. I yelled in pain and steadied the bike. The men from the weed farm were in a truck, chasing me and trying to shoot my tires out from under me.

I sped up quicker and managed to get to Sandy Shores, the men still hot on my tail. I skidded my bike to a sideways stop in front of my house, jumping off and grabbing the weed and suitcase. I ran in the trailer, locking the door and grabbing the 44 I brought with me that belonged to my father. I ran back outside and took cover behind the trash, blood still gushing from where the bullet grazed me.

Soon I had taken almost all of the men out, only 3 left. Suddenly, someone grabbed me from behind, pushing me up against a post on the railing of my trailer. He had a hold on my neck, and a gun to my face. I tried kicking and fighting him, but he was strong. 

"Where's our money, you little bitch?" He said, threateningly. I managed to loosen the grip he had on my neck, biting him hard in the hand. I could feel my teeth puncture through his hand, and immediately tasted blood in my mouth. I bit down harder as he dropped the gun, screaming loudly and trying to get me off his hand. The other men shot at me, all of them missing their aim.

I never let go of his hand, and soon I felt the bones cracking under my teeth. He yelled louder and louder.

"You crazy bitch!" He said, trying to pull my hair to get me off him. I was seeing stars as I bit down even harder. I grabbed the gun he dropped and shot him in the head, blowing his brains all over my yard. I spat blood out of my mouth.

Bullets flew by, one of them hitting me in the arm. I screamed and fell back, clutching my arm and crying. The remaining men began surrounding me, but then, I noticed them dropping dead one by one, each having their brains blown out by a man standing in the yard. Trevor.

I managed to sit up while crying, staring at him in all his shirtless glory. All he had on was some cargo pants, boots, and a baseball cap. Somehow seeing him made the pain a little more bearable. 

"Damn, you sure bit a plug out of the guy, ya crazy little girl." He said, taking my hand in his and using the other to hold my waist as he helped me up. He examined my wounds and noticed the red marks on my neck from the man's hold. I was still crying and at this point, and I leaned into him for support as the pain became nearly unbearable. 

I could hear sirens in the distance as police were sent to investigate the series of gunshots. He noticed this as he picked me up and carried me to his truck, opening the passenger door and placing me in the seat. He buckled my seat belt and went around to the driver's side, getting in and starting the truck. 

"Don't worry, I know a guy who'll fix ya right up, sweetheart." He said, reaching over to place a hand on my arm comfortingly. I leaned into the touch, still wincing from the pain. 

"T-thanks." I said. I was shaking now, partially from just being attacked and shot, and also partially from being in Trevor's presence. Even in my pained state, I could sit and admire Trevor's still-shirtless form.

"If you don't mind me askin', what exactly did you do to get into trouble with those guys, sweetheart? You don't seem like the kinda girl to get into trouble like that." He said,eyeing me up and down. I winced, noticing the blood starting to dry on my arm.

"Well...I was out riding my motorcycle and I found a little weed farm. I thought it would be fun to steal their weed and anything else they might have. For the risk of getting in trouble. You know, that rush you get when you do something dangerous and it feels so damn hot at first and then shit hits the fan." I said, cringing at the pain in my arm. He was eyeing me in a different way now. His eyes had a hungrier, darker look to them.

"My GOD, woman. You are so perfect! I love you!" He said. He drove faster and a little more recklessly.

"You're so damn perfect. What do you say to quittin' that low paying job and work for me? Baby, you and me, whatcha think?" He said. I thought about it for a moment. On one hand, I may risk being shot at again. But on the other, I may not have to worry about that because he seems tough and he could probably protect me. I could easily get to know him better, the man everyone told me to stay away from.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay. Sounds fun." I said. He grinned, and pulled into a parking lot outside a building. 

"Chef! Get your ass down here. Got a new coworker that needs some fixing up ASAP!" He yelled, a bit harshly.

"Coming, Trevor!" He said, coming out the door. He had an apron and gloves on, and he smelled strongly of ammonia.

"You're the only one who knows how to fix a bullet wound." He said, gesturing to my wound. Chef examined it, wincing. 

"Yep, luckily her isn't too deep. I can just yank it right out and it won't hurt any worse than it already does." He said, going inside and pulling out some thin tweezers and cleaning them with alcohol. He got some gauze and came back, carefully tweezing the bullet out of the wound. I winced as he put some kind of ointment on the wound and wrapped my arm with gauze, also covering the graze mark from before the actually gunfight.

"All patched up. Oh, I'm Chef by the way." He said. Trevor pulled me to him, and I squeaked.

"Don't even think about it, man. She's mine." Trevor said, putting his arm around my waist. Chef rolled his eyes, walking back inside. I looked up at Trevor, noticing how he towered above me. I felt like I was growing obsessed with the man. As soon as he pulled up in front of his trailer, he walked around the side of the truck before I could even get my seat belt off and opened the door for me, helping me climb out of the large truck. He led me into his trailer and grabbed two beer bottles from the fridge, giving one to me.

"I have a feeling you're gonna want to drink that off." He said, gesturing to my wound. I nodded, taking a drink from the bottle. He sat on the couch, gesturing for me to take a seat beside him. I sat down beside him and he wrapped an arm around my waist.

"So how would you like to be TPI's co-CEO? You can work right up next to Ron. And I promise ya, you'll never have to do any shooting or getting shot. You just leave that to me." He said. I nodded. Having protection from the town's most dangerous man seemed so enticing, I just had to accept.

"Sure thing, handsome." I said, smirking a little as the beer was setting in, giving me a little burst of courage. He may have turned a little pink at my words. 

"Oh my, I would do unspeakable things to you, sweetheart." He said, his eyes glazing over in a lusty way.

"Just as long as I'm not just some booty call to you, baby." I said, swinging my leg over him to straddle his lap. He threw his empty beer bottle down, attacking my neck with hunger. I could feel him nipping and sucking on my skin, his rough hands already up my shirt.

"I'm gonna keep you forever. You ain't going nowhere after tonight, sweetheart." He said, kissing me. I kissed back and he picked me up, taking me to his bedroom. He pushed me down onto the bed and removed our clothes, piece by piece until we were both naked, his tanned, scarred and tattooed, rough skin on my unblemished, fair skin, his hand entangled in my long dark blonde hair as we spent each other's bodies into the small hours of the night.


End file.
